Blood Water
by Wufie-the-back-side-slayer
Summary: Silence. Calm. Darkness. War spills blood, time will never cleanse it, and the hands of humanity is stained with it. Man is destined to make the same mistakes over and over again. The year is AC 211
1. Prologue

**Blood Water**

**Arc One: Man With Out Fear  
****Prologue **

**AN: **My first story posted from Canada, I hope that you like it. No warnings for this chapter, but ill tell you now, this story isnt going to be on the innocent side, there will be angst, death, gore, Yaoi, maybe a bit of Yuri and all around violence. Oh! And the name might change, because im not quite sure what to call it.

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* * *

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The moon hung dark and full in the night sky, only slivers of its light reaching the room's interior.

It was midnight.

Tomorrow his head would hurt, his eyes would itch and he would be using the desk as a pillow. He knew that, but it didn't stop the fact that the little wheels in the back of his head were working over time, due to much protest from their owner.

Thoughts were running rampant through his mind, chasing each other in unending circles, most of them unpleasant.

Slowly he rolled over stretching one arm across the slender body that lay beside him. Hilde – Now that was a thought he didn't mind.

Five minutes of stillness later he gave in. Lifting his head slightly he stole another cursory peek at the digital alarm on the side board – One minuet past midnight.

Okay, that was it.

Hastily he climbed out of bed, pulling a shirt clumsily over his head in the utter dark of the room. Though used to shadows over tiered Duo just do not go with midnight darkness, especially when his wife's slight snores taunted him from the bed.

The apartment wasn't much, but it served them just right, and compared to most of the homes in the L2 area it was positively grand with two bed rooms, a kitchen and a living room, not to mention bathroom.

Walking through the hallways he carefully measured each step, determined to stay utterly silent, and, simultaneously being mindfully careful to dodge the random pieces of metal scattered about the floor.

The kitchen was small, only a gang way barely big enough for one person to walk down, let alone cook in. Again, various pieces of machines and week old paper-work were strewn across every surface. The coffee pot lay on the plywood counter top, next to the minute chrome sink and surrounded with pens and files. The dark liquid had congealed at the bottom of the pot. Yum, day old coffee.

Muttering, he poured some of the 'mud' into a mug inscribed with the number 02, and added liberal amounts of cream and sugar. Instant melted espresso ice cream. Just what he needed this hour of the morning.

"Hello, my name is Duo Maxwell. I'm thirty-one and a caffeine addict."

Pausing for a moment he wondered how much of that statement was actually true. Then wisdom kicked in and he decided against thinking, collapsing in a nearby chair and draping himself across the cushions.

There are a select few people in this world who can close there eyes and see just the back of their eye lids. Unfortunately Duo wasn't allowed to join that little club. Every night he closed his eyes and would see the horrors of a past that refused to die. Logic dictated to him that he wasn't alone, but at half past twelve in the morning it was pretty hard to think other wise.

But it was nights like these that had him thinking. Nights where he would remember every tiny detail, every drop of blood, every swing of a scythe. Fifteen years hadn't dulled the effect of his nightmares, and time had not worn them away.

It was night like these where he would ask the age old questions; why hadn't any one attacked yet? Would they even try?

There was always some one hiding who would just love to dig there claws into his peace and rip it apart, just like OZ had done so many years ago. It was people like that who chilled his very soul. And again he would wonder:

Why was nothing happening?

* * *

Heero Yuy sat alone at his desk in yet another rented apartment. In front him a laptop sat, its monitor glowing with an iridescent light, casting the entire room in an eerie blue glow. Expertly trained fingers flew like lightening across abused plastic keys, clacking on into the midnight peace. His mind, as always, paid heed to the fact that it was only one in the morning.

Officially it was now December 24th AC 211.

A stillness filled every contact he had, all lines remained uncharacteristically quiet.

He slammed his fist against the keyboard in frustration. Several coverings flew across the room.

"Damn it." The curse was muttered even though he knew no one could hear him anyway.

The world was quiet. Too quiet.

And if there was one thing that Heero Yuy didn't like it was Silence.

* * *

Ceilings.

The most boring thing in existence.

Plain flat colors that fade or yellow with age coated with the little specks of dirt that find it amusing to stick to them, only to further stain the white and stick to it in disordered clumps.

Ceilings.

So why on earth was he lying awake at half past one in the morning, staring at one?

He sighed.

Insomnia. It had started about two weeks ago in the knowledge that Christmas was approaching. Of course as a Muslim he didn't celebrate the holiday, but it held still held significance for him.

Every Christmas he would sit, and wait, and wait.

Fifteen years of nothing but peace? It was almost too much to hope.

* * *

Please read and review because i will be taking suggestions for the plot in this story.

thank you.


	2. Prologue II

**Blood Water**

**Arc One: Man With Out Fear  
****Prologue II**

**AN:** Chapter 2 and in the second day as well. A huge thank you goes out to Reecey boy for helping me with a helluva lot of this chapter, I'm really greatful.

* * *

The door opened silently and he entered, careful not to wake the sleeping form in the bed. It was another late night at the office; another 16 hours spent looking, searching. And still nothing.

Xiao and Kuang-De were in the next room sleeping. Su-ao would be dreaming among the duvet of her bunk bed, cuddled together with the multiple stuffed animals she deemed necessary for sleep. His children. Just thinking about it made him smile. The Dragon Clan would live on.

Bare feet padded across carpet never making even a whisper of sound. Whirling over to the bed he sat down, mindful not to move her too much.

"Wufei?" So much for that plan.

He turned around, a slight smile upon his lips. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Gently he reached across and brushed aside a lock hair from her eyes, the blonde strands glittering in the moon light.

She laughed. "You could be silent as a ghost, Wufei, and I'd still hear you."

Cringing, he nodded. Even with all of his training and natural talent for sneaking around he knew she would. She was his wife after all, new him better than anyone else in the world, perhaps.

Frowning, she sat up. "Wufei? What's wrong?"

He sighed and looked at her. "Sally…"

A warm hand landed on his shoulder. "Tell me, Wufei."

"It's too quite." His eyes found there way to the ceiling. "I keep looking and coming up empty. I," a line creased his brow, one, sally noted, that was becoming decidedly permanent as time went by, "I don't know what to do." Again he sighed. "When did I get so old, huh?"

She laughed. "You're many things, but old isn't one of them."

He couldn't help but chuckle.

Softly she patted the bed beside her. "Come on, get some sleep. You know your gonna need it with the twins tomorrow."

Blinking he lay down, still fully clothed, too tired to undress. Tomorrow? Ah, Christmas. At this thought his chest tightened. Christmas...

* * *

Smoke machines gave the bar an intimate and mysterious atmosphere, table laden with strange multi-colored and highly alcoholic beverages were arranged haphazardly about the floor. Snatches of distant conversations could just about be heard as the band for that Christmas Eve set up.

"I'm making you an offer here."

"This place is exactly how I imagined it."

"Have you got the information I need?"

Indeed all sorts of people could be found frequenting the quaint, if not some what unique premises; dealers, couples intent to stay on the wrong side of the world together, undercover police, and detectives unknown. It was, as some might say, a melting pot of humanity.

The smell of strong black coffee infiltrated the senses as the music that drifted from the band permeated the very soul of the listeners. Watching the performers was an honor in its self, euphoric. Especially the tenor saxophone player as his lithe, long fingers slid along the keys, the fluidity of his motion spoke of sadness, joy and sensuality the likes of which these simple customers would never know.

What ever he had done before, whatever he had seen, had known, had lived, this was his life.

Trowa Barton closed his eyes and let the melody take him away to a better place, a better day. A world where no one died, only laughed, sang, loved and cried.

* * *

"You want your information kid, then right this way." The skin head smirked from his vantage point, being several inches taller than the 'kid' in question. Out of habit he flexed the muscles in his arm, far too big to be of any use, he could barely cross his arms.

The hooded youth nodded silently and followed at a lope, the other man out into the alley way behind the night club. He could still hear the music pounding through the brick walls. Garbage lined the small gang way and the smell of stale and rotting food was almost too much to bear.

The skin head smirked as the kid unwittingly followed him. _Any time now…_

Shadows flew from every crevice, seemingly from no where. Several goons bared there teeth, muscle bound and hairless, almost every inch of bear skin pierced or tattooed.

He was surrounded.

The youth swore.

"There's a price for this kinda info, punk." Baldy smiled wickedly. "Now, me and the boys here wondered if a kid like you can pay up."

The boy turned around, his face still obscured by the shadows of his hoodie, only a twisted and worrying smile could be seen.

"Maybe I can, maybe I cant," he stated in slow, highly deliberate tones. "It all depends on the price."

The circle of thugs tightened and they grinned at each other stupidly. The kid was just another over confident punk, there were more of these every day. Though there would be one less at the end of tonight.

Baldy's face broke into his own sickening smile. "I don't know kid; we'll have to see if you survive."

He reached out a hand in a flash, gripping the boys shoulder and pulling down the hood.

Ebony hair fell in spikes around the face of a demon. Angles lined his every feature, made in to a beautifully haunting mirage in the opaque shadows of the alleyway. Even in the darkness the thugs leader could tell the boys eyes remained calmly closed.

They stayed closed as the boy lashed around with lightening speed, breaking Baldy's arm.

They didn't open as feet, knees and elbows met with guts, necks, and jaw. Each followed with a sickeningly painful sound. Bones broke, limbs tore, skin split. One by one each thug fell. Their leader only watched clutching his arm, a look of horror plastered over his features.

When the last one fell, moaning in agony and writhing with pain, the kid turned and stalked over to the leader, eyes hidden in shadow.

His fist lashed out, a hand clasped around the throat of the man. That twisted smile curved back into place, promising things much worse than death. Neon light of the nearest streetlight lit up his features, his eyes.

Midnight blue chips of ice stared out at him hollowly. Determination flared within their depths, a fire rarely seen outside of the eyes of a killer.

The man squirmed, eyes flickering with terror.

They met steel.

Bright grey eyes winked from behind his assailant. Blue eyes widened in shock. A gun cocked. The leader decided he had never heard such a beautiful sound.

"Put the goon down and step away from the wall." A lilting feminine voice barked from behind. "Now."

The youth blinked and stepped back. He raised his arms fluidly, the anticipation of barely restrained violence filling every action.

"You're making a mistake." The warning echoed down the alley, the words spoken softly, slowly, deliberately.

"I sincerely doubt that." She smiled even though it was not visible from the darkness around her. "The only one who made a mistake tonight was you. When your superior finds out what happened, well; I'd hate to be you."

In one motion both the gun and voice were gone. She'd left.

"Fuck."

"You think you've been fucked over?" Asked the goon leader. "She was supposed to be working for us."

A fist whipped out and the leader fell, unconscious.

Reavus sighed and leaned against the wall. All that was left to do now was to wait for the back up.

* * *

Preventers swarmed the area. It was a see of green and brown clad bodies, flash lights and sirens. Every officer in the immediate area seemed to have miraculously appeared there in the last twenty minutes.

Reavus sat, reclined in the back of the closest Preventer car. Carefully he sipped at the cocoa in his hand. And grimaced.

"You did well Reavus," Sergeant Sally Marcovic's voice drifted to him, reassuringly. "That gang had been terrorizing this area for months! Now they won't be hurting anyone else anytime soon." She looked thoughtful. "Well, only in prison, but that's an improvement, isn't it?"

Reavus stared at her blankly. "You just ruined a perfectly good pep talk there Sally."

"That's sergeant Marcovic to you, Cadet!" An unknown speaker snapped.

Reavus turned lazily, where as Sally froze terrified.

Standing before them was a truly impressive picture, dark hair, piercing eyes and a bearing that made a small wall look insubstantial.

"Uh, hi Noin," Sally stuttered nervously. "How's it going?"

"Fine, Sergeant." Glaring she turned her wrath upon Reavus.

He shuffled back, despite himself.

"Reavus Kazuki, I expect to see you in my office first thing tomorrow morning."

He looked at sally. There was no mistaking her wince.

"Good luck," she murmured. "Lord knows, your going to need it."

Reavus blanched.

* * *

R+R


	3. Never Say Tuesday

**Blood Water**

**Arc One: Man With Out Fear  
Chapter I  
Never Say Tuesday **

**AN: **Thanks goes out to Reecey-Boy who is helping me (a lot) to write this fic. Enjoy.

* * *

"My spidey sense is tingling."

Reavus looked at her and sighed. "Sally, you're kidding, right?"

She stared at him in mock horror at such an accusation. "I wouldn't make up something like this!"

Reavus highly doubted that statement, but still.

She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation at his look of skepticism. "How long have you been a preventer again?" She asked.

"A month," he admitted solemnly.

"And your getting yourself in trouble like a seasoned Pro already," Sally shook her head in despair. "I've got three years on you and I'm the youngest Sergeant they've got. My instincts are pretty damn sharp, even by preventer standards."

Reavus rolled his eyes in an exaggerated gesture. "Yeah, you made your point."

Sally smirked as they both strolled whimsically down the street. After Reavus' little escapade they had been assigned to patrol duties – Reavus, for obvious reasons and Sally in the vain hopes that someone might drill a little bit of common sense into the boy.

"So what are your spidey senses telling you, oh mighty preventer?"

Sally's glare could have melted gundamium. "If you must know; something big is going to happen and we're being followed."

Reavus nodded. "Yeah I can feel it." He paused rubbing the back of his neck. "Hang on! Followed!?"

The older preventer stopped and in one fluid motion pointed to a seemingly random shadow and with her right hand, drew her gun. "Yep, followed, isn't that right, Melenthe?" Sergeant Marcovic smirked.

With a sigh a girl emerged from the darkness and into the early morning light, though with her clothes, an ensemble of grey, she appeared to be a walking breathing shadow. Her blonde hair skimmed her waist and steel grey eyes looked on in barely concealed embarrassment.

One thing that was often forgotten about Sergeant Sally Marcovic; how ever nice a person she might be, she was still awfully good at her job.

"He," Melenthe spat pointing at Reavus, "is crap. I thought every preventer was meant to be Spiderman."

"Then that would make you venom," quipped Sally. "Now spill Melenthe, what do you know?"

Melenthe rolled her eyes much in the same manner Reavus had not long ago. "Not here, Some where less public. Same time and place?"

"As ever," smiled Sally. "Now get lost."

Melenthe slunk back into the shadows, disappearing almost instantly when they slid over her, as though they were glad to welcome her back.

Reavus stood, stock still, mildly shocked by the sudden exchange. This was Sally; nice, hard working and above all else rule abiding. The exemplary preventer.

Some how he felt cheated. "What the hell was that?" He demanded, his voice hot with anger.

"That was me breaking the rules," she stated simply, continuing on down the high street. "The difference between you and I is that I don't get caught."

She spotted his dejected look as he slumped his shoulders. "Don't worry; you'll get there," she smiled encouragingly, "eventually."

"What's up with Melenthe?" Reavus enquired almost casually.

Sally huffed and kept her eyes on the road. "Her real name is Persephone. Her mother had a strange sense of humor." She explained at his look of utter disbelief. "I think her brother's name is Pluton, which worries me a bit. But what can I say? It could be a lot worse."

"How?" Reavus exclaimed. "They're mother named them after the king and queen of the after life!"

Sally glanced at her younger charge. "They could have inherited her eyebrows…"

* * *

"A warehouse?"

"A warehouse," Sally nodded, "the cheapest housing in the area." She smiled grimly. "You should see the inside.

She strode to the entrance of the dilapidated building and Reavus jogged to catch up (strange seen as he was five inches taller than she was), not at all sure that he even wanted to follow, for fear the housing might collapse around him.

Sally drew her gun and moved it slightly to her side as the checked the corridor, her back pressed to the cold concrete walls. She waved him on.

Slowly the both stalked down the corridor, constantly on guard. It was quiet, too quiet.

Eventually they came to a door; nodding slowly to her partner Sally opened it.

On the other side stood Persephone, pointing a rather large magnum at Sally's head. Reavus moved to shoot instantly. A projectile hit his fingers.

The gun fell to the floor.

"Told you he was crap," Persephone remarked, face straight as ever, as she put up her weapon.

"Yeah I hate to admit this; but you were right." A male voice sounded from behind them. "Still thinks you have to hold a gun up to someone's face."

Sally rolled her eyes. "He'll learn, now are you going to let us in, or not?"

"I've been shot." Reavus stared at his hand in horror.

"With a paint ball," Persephone was quipped. "Human blood isn't usually yellow."

A fairly tall young man strolled past Reavus and Sally, smoked glasses obscured his eyes and dusty blonde hair, the same as Persephone's stuck up in about sixteen different directions. A paint ball gun was slung nonchalantly over one shoulder. He was clad head to toe in dark blue denim, apart from the black t-shirt beneath the jacket.

He ignored Reavus, instead nodding curtly at Sally.

Rolling her eyes again she followed, with Reavus behind her like a second shadow. He was still trying vainly to scrape the remnants of yellow paint from his fingers.

The room they entered was large and quite comfortably decorated, a certain change from the rest of the building. A small bank of computers leaned precariously against one wall and soft furnishings in varying shades of blue took up the remaining space.

"Make your self at home, Sergeant." Blondie said with a smile, "juts make sure your side kick doesn't break anything."

"Oh, come on now Pluton. He's not my sidekick." Sally chided, "He's my colleague."

"Whatever," the man named Pluton smirked taking a seat on an over stuffed chair. "Mother will kill us if there are foot prints on the sofa."

"Now to business?" asked Sally brightly, as she too sat down. "I want to know exactly what's going on."

* * *

Sally got back to her car and waited for Reavus to buckle himself into the passenger seat. The second it had clicked into place she gunned down the accelerator and sped down the street.

To her internal amusement the boy screamed like a girl.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Trust me Reavus, by the end of tonight I'll be the only one that isn't." She took a sharp left at high speed and Reavus slammed against his door.

"You're not taking them seriously, are you?" He raised one eyebrow skeptically.

Sally nodded, her eyes resolutely on the on the road. She cranked up the engine as she took another left, Reavus was braced this time. Expensive houses lined the street, each decorated lavishly for the Christmas season.

They pulled up a drive and slammed the breaks stopping abruptly outside a large red brick house. The most famous red brick house in the world.

The home of Vice President Relena Dorlain.

The younger agent blinked. Her couldn't believe what he had been told, his brain just wouldn't let him accept it.

An assassination plot.

Against Relena Dorlain.

It just didn't compute. It was Possible. The variables were all in favor of it being true, it was even likely. He just didn't trust the source. He knew it was ridiculous, but Pluton's eyes creeped him out and it was inadvertently affecting his judgment. Not to mention the fact that those twins had got one over on him twice in a row now.

The shock wearing off he rubbed at the now forming bruises on his left arm. "Is road safety a foreign concept to you or something?" He snapped at the 'driver', and he used that term loosely.

"Get out we're here." Sally neatened up her uniform, pulling at the jacket until it fell straight, and dragged a comb through her jet black hair. Some how she had changed, something in her demeanor had altered. Even in the unflattering uniform you had to notice that she was attractive. And she knew it.

A Siren stepped out of that car, not a Sergeant.

"Pop your eyes back into your head and come on." Briskly she walked past the drooling teenager.

Numbly Reavus nodded and did as he was told.

He paused, thinking. "Err, Sally, how are we going to get in?" Sally continued walking and pointed at one of the many limo's parked in the circular drive way. Determinedly she made her way towards it, swaying her hips as she went.

A doddery 'older gentleman' (Reavus snorted at the thought) stumbled out of the vehicle and slowly walked up the pathway to the stately suburban home.

"General Whitecombe, Sir," she called out to the man. Slowly, with the air of a man who had all the time in the world he turned, and smiled when his eyes found her.

"Sergeant Marcovic," he stopped and allowed the two to catch up, "it's a pleasure to see you again." Graciously he stooped and took her hand, kissing it.

Reavus watched in mild horror as she giggled airily.

"The pleasure is all mine, Sir." She smiled sweetly. The general looked at her thoughtfully for a moment.

"Would you care to join me at the party, good lady?"

Again Sally giggled, before pausing and turning a concerned look upon Reavus. The general noted this quickly. "Of course, your friend here can come too?"

Sally smiled, eyes glittering, "then I would love to come, General Whitecombe."

* * *

The majority of the party guests stood mingling in the ballroom when the General and his two guests entered. Sally had subtly taken hold of his arm and was smiling beatifically at the crowd.

Reavus was trying not to scowl.

"Sergeant, there are some people you simply must meet!" The elderly gentleman declared, steering the girl towards a small crowd that occupied one of the ballrooms corners.

The room was decorated with various reds and gold, each glittering merrily to the sound of clinking champagne glasses.

As the general moved away, taking Sally with him, she motioned to Reavus mouthing 'mingle'. In other words; 'go and do your job'.

Silently he nodded and slinked off into the crowd, disappearing immediately amongst the mass of bodies.

"Gentlemen, ladies!" The general called, "I have with me some body you just have to meet!" With an over exaggerated gesture he motioned towards Sally. "May I introduce Sergeant Sally Marcovic."

The group looked at her, she looked at the group. Nobody said anything for a while.

"Hello," she hazarded.

"Hello," a blonde man, barely taller than Reavus stepped forward, a kind smile lighting his face. "It seems as though once again my friends have nominated me as the speaker." Chuckling slightly he held out a hand. "My name is Quatre, Quatre Winner."

Sally looked at him blankly for a moment, "Nice to meet you Mr. Winner." She shook his hand, after extracting it from the general's grip and smiled.

"Oh! Of course," he blushed, embarrassed as he dropped her hand. "This is my wife Acacia."

Turning her smile on the woman in question she bowed slightly. "A pleasure, I'm sure."

The red headed Winner beamed and blushed. "I'm still a little new to this."

Quatre once again stepped forward, allowing his wife to go back to sipping her Chardonnay. "My friends, though ultimately quite shy, are very glad to meet you."

"Hn."

Sally looked, slightly puzzled at the man who had grunted at her. "Hello," she said voice still polite. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Her efforts were returned with a glare that, like her own, could probably have melted gundanium.

Midnight blue eyes stared at her, appraising.

* * *

Reavus weaved in and out of the bodies that filled the room, ignoring the classical music that played softly from the stage. How hard could it be to find one vice president? After all, it's hard to misplace them.

The multitude of colors from dresses and decorations were beginning to hurt his eyes as he continued to circle the room.

Then he stopped and turned to the nearest person, tapping them discreetly upon the shoulder. When all else fails ask some one else.

"I believe that she's some where over there, in the middle of that rather large group, young man." He bid the older woman thanks and made his way to the gaggle of people.

Unfortunately the crowd was impenetrable and after much employment of his elbow, Reavus gave up heading towards the drinks table in order to formulate a new plan.

Whilst thinking about a rather complicated plot involving blue string and C4, somebody knocked into his side.

"Sorry buddy," the perpetrator apologized, disappearing in a flash of a chestnut braid.

Reavus grunted and stared at the crowd. Perhaps duct tape would be better?

* * *

Politely the young blue eyed Preventer barged his way through the crowd. Muttering to himself another native curse, he stumbled, once again pushed by one of the many aristocrats. Who ever knew rich people were so rude?

If one more chinless wonder elbowed him in the ribs... well, they'd swiftly discover the niffty little moves a year of Preventers boot camp had tought him.

Eventually he saw her.

She was standing in a small clearing of people, talking animatedly to several of those surrounding her. Apparently all at them same time..

Unfortuantely, Sally hadn't told him what exactly to do when he found her.

* * *

Nodding graciously, Relena turned, hair still the colour of sun whirled about her shoulders in a cascade. Fifteen years of politics had left her a little harder, a little colder, but no less appeasing to the eye.

A sudden flash of dark hair and familiar cobalt eyes stopped her dead.

The boy stood, half hidden by the throng of people around him. A cold blue gaze, all too familiar, stared out at her calculatingly, and Relena felt her face drain of all colour.

Heero.

The hair was slightly darker and neater, the frame a little larger, as though he hadnt been starved through out a one year war, but it was him.

Slowly he stepped forward. It was a hesitant action like he wasn't at all sure what exactly to do.

And, lets face it, he didn't.

After all it wasn't like telling the Vice President that she was the target of an assassination attempt was something he did every day, was it?

He gulped unnoticably as he came within reaching distance of his target.

"Vice President," he said, bowing politely at the waist. No outward signs of his worry and uncomfort showing now.

"Hello," smiling slightly she looked at the boy infront of her, a mirror to the past.

"Surely Vice President," sarted one of the over stuffed shirts to Reavus's left. "The situation in Russia can't be-"

"Could you excuse me a moment?" She politely interrupted before the man got into his stride. "I need to talk to some one privately."

She nodded as she subtlely pulled away from the group of circling vulchers that were her co-workers and beconned for the young Preventer to do the same.

However, the wake that had opened with Relena's departure was quick to close and Reavus was once again forced to push his way through the gaggle. He barely managed to keep his cool when the Vice Foreign Minister had groped him while passing.

Finally, and after much effort he came to stand besides his 'Mission'.

"Ms Dorlain," he began.

Relena quickly raised her hand to cut him off. "I havn't been a Ms or a Dorlain for a _very_ long time, Sir."

Safe to say Reavus had the manners to look at least slightly abashed. "I appologise, Vice President, but there is something you need to know."

Relena raised an eyebrow in mild interest. "Is that so?"

It was at this exact moment that he realised saying 'somebody is trying to kill you' sounded a bit silly and just a tad bit melodramatic, even if it was true.

It was for this reason that his brain chose then to develop a very acute stutter.

"er-um... ano." Shaking his head he took a deep breath and tried again, mentally slapping himself for being so bloody stupid. "I have recieved information that your life may be in danger." He sighed. "Mrs Henson, there is a plot to assassinate you."

To his great surprise Relena began to laugh lightly. "What day of the week isn't there?"

"Tuesday?" He asked with out thinking.

The Vice Presidents soft chuckles turned into full blown laughter as she placed a hand on the marble pillar to her right in an attempt to stay upright.

A sharp hiss sliced through the air.

In an instant Relena's eyes dulled, lips still smiling. A small trickle of red slid down her forehead.

The bullet hit the floor behind her with a crack, half of the womans head following it with a sickening splash.

Crimson stained white marble.

In painful slow motion reavus watched as the body of Relena Henson fell forward, collapsing into his arms, a dead weight.

Blood spilled out on innocent hands.

* * *

R+R


End file.
